


The Wonder Keeping The Stars Apart

by thecivilunrest



Category: The White Queen (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-03
Updated: 2013-09-23
Packaged: 2017-12-25 11:57:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/952790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecivilunrest/pseuds/thecivilunrest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The people may not be fully used to the Lancaster regime, Anne thinks as a red rose falls into her lap, but in time they will get used to the idea, just as she did. </p><p>Or, the one where Edward IV loses the Battle of Tewkesbury and the Lancastrians have control of the throne once again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One: Princess of Wales

**Author's Note:**

> So I've been working on this for about...two weeks now. And it's something else. The next chapter will be longer and have more Richard/Anne, so never fear but...yeah. This AU is going to be the death of me.
> 
> Now this fic has a [beautiful graphic](http://lehayed.tumblr.com/post/66580013106) to go with it by the wonderful [souvent-me-souvient](http://souvent-me-souvient.tumblr.com). Everyone should go look at it, it's gorgeous!

London does not seem to know how to react to as they parade down the streets to Westminster. For years they have told stories about the Bad Queen, the she-wolf who brought war and terror to their land. The last time she tried to march through London the city almost shut her out. Margaret of Anjou was a story to tell their children, a dark shadow that feasted on their bones and had an army from hell riding behind her. 

Her son was not seen as any kinder. A monster, they called him, when he ordered the deaths of two men at only eight-years-old. And then there was King Henry himself would be waiting for them at the palace, and he was no better. Some consider him a saint, others a half-wit. He could not rule himself for himself, which was why the Earl of Warwick had to be beside him. 

Until, of course, he died, leaving his wife to seek sanctuary, his oldest daughter between loyalties, and his youngest in this pit of snakes that the public does not seem to trust. 

Anne remembers a very different London. Elizabeth Woodville’s coronation seems so long ago, how could it have only been five years? Then there had been flower petals fluttering to the ground and the crown had been screaming for love of king and queen-to-be and country. They had beautiful monarchs and horses and a reason to celebrate for days. 

Anne and her mother-in-law and husband are dirty and exhausted from battle, and they can only stir up the slightest bit of enthusiasm for this strange prince and queen who have been gone from England’s shores for almost more time than they were upon them. 

Despite of this, or perhaps because of it, Anne lifts up her hand to wave at the crowd. She tries to smile--grief has made her so tired and joyless--and for a moment there is nothing but silence. Edward and Queen Margaret sit on their horses, faces stony and cold, and Anne comes to the conclusion that maybe this wasn’t the best idea after all. 

Recognition seems to be all the crowd was waiting for, because once a child yells back “Princess!” the rest of London responds, throwing red roses and smiling. 

This seems to thaw even Edward--who Anne remembers being called the Prince of Ice--and he smiles back to wave as well. For the first time in Anne’s memory Queen Margaret begins to look content. 

Her father’s voice sits in her ear. _London loves a pretty girl,_ he told her once. _Just as much as they love a wealthy and important one. Remember that._

The people may not be fully used to the Lancaster regime, Anne thinks as a red rose falls into her lap, but in time they will get used to the idea, just as she did. 

. 

Anne is presented to King Henry as soon as they arrive, and for a moment she is struck dumb just by looking at him. He is a tall man, but his face is blank and there is something...off about him. Half-wit or saint she does not know, but she is thinking more towards the former. For a moment she forgets to curtsey, but a sharp look from the queen is all it takes for her to remember herself. 

This king is nothing like Edward, who had been bright and handsome and full of laughter, God rest his soul. His body had been desecrated, all armor and jewelry stolen by thieves, though he had been buried in the abbey after his body had sat in the sun for three days. 

King Henry doesn’t speak, but gestures for her to stand up. He hugs her, whispers something that she thinks is supposed to be _Daughter_ in her ear. He smells like incense, like the church, but also the sickly scent of illness. 

The court watches everything as she goes to stand next to Edward, who does not offer her his arm. Anne sees her sister disgraced at the back of court, her husband dead, and wishes that she was standing there instead. 

“Let us celebrate!” the queen says, after all of the introductions are complete. “We have killed the usurpers, crushed the white rose of York underneath our boots. We are God’s chosen rulers and His cause has prevailed as we have.” 

“Here, here!” the Duke of Somerset calls, and the queen smiles as the rest of the court cheers and moves to sit and begin the feast. Edward serves himself first, and then her, and she smiles at him anyway. Her face begins to hurt at the effort of it, at the effort of happiness, but smiles she does anyway. 

She can feel Queen Margaret’s eyes on her face. Anne is the one piece that does not fit at the high table, a girl who can easily be put aside, Princess of Wales for barely six months. 

Anne eats her dinner and does not say one word, smiles instead of screams, and buries her unhappiness as deeply as she can. Her husband does not seem to notice, or care. 

.

The next day Anne is moved into the second best rooms in the palace, ones beside the queen’s own rooms. The queen has graciously allowed Isabel to become one of Anne’s ladies, and has written Anne a note that says, Treat her as the wife of a traitor first, your sister second. 

She looks at the note before putting it aside, and allowing her sister entry. 

“Leave us,” she tells her ladies, who were only placed in their positions the day before. They all courtesy before her and leave. There is no doubt in Anne’s mind that they will go directly to the queen to gossip about her, but she cares little for them. 

Instead she focuses on Isabel, who has deep circles under her eyes. She is pale with an anxious look around her eyes, as though she is not sure of anything anymore. The court is alight with gossip about the Duke of Clarence, who was not only a turncoat, but a liar, disloyal to the end. Isabel has been facing these alone, with her head held up, but the stress is starting to show. 

Isabel does not look at Anne, instead curtsies and keeps her head low. 

Anne rises from her chair and holds her arms out wide. “Sister,” she says, voice low. “You will always be my sister, no matter what happens. I will not desert you now.” 

Isabel looks up, sees Anne’s open arms, and closes the space between them. Anne holds onto her sister for dear life as Isabel clutches her back. The Neville girls are together again at last, and it hurts almost as much as it heals. 

Isabel cries onto Anne’s shoulder, and Anne lets her ruin her gown, stroking her hair. “I have been so alone, Annie,” she says. 

“I know. But I am here now, and we will never be parted again, not if we don’t wish it.” 

She means every word that she tells her sister. Anne is Princess of Wales, queen-to-be, and she will not let her sister be shipped off to the country attached to a Lancastrian husband. She will wield whatever power that she can to have Isabel by her side. 

.

The queen insists that she and Anne spend time together, as much mother and daughter as they can be. So Anne goes to the queen’s chambers and sits at her feet, stitching the tapestry, just the two of them. 

Queen Margaret usually spends this time talking of her childhood in Anjou and her time in exile, speaking of what it means to be an English queen from another place entirely. Ever since Anne made the suggestion that helped the Lancastrian army win the war as well as turning London on their side, she is gentler now. She treats Anne more like a daughter than an enemy, though sometimes she looks at Anne as though she does not trust her, not completely. 

Anne will never forget that this is the she-wolf of Anjou, that she made the Earl of Warwick kneel before her for a quarter of an hour, that she hates what Anne still foolishly holds close to her chest: the white rose of York. 

During one of these sessions Edward comes in, eyes bright. He is the happiest that Anne has ever seen him, and that alone puts a bad feeling in her gut. She does not want to know what has happened to make her husband look like that. “We have captured Gloucester at last!” he says, waving a letter in his hand. 

The queen stands up at once to embrace her son, and the letter floats to the ground, forgotten. Anne picks the parchment up and reads it, soaks up every word that she can about Richard, that he is alive. She has not let herself think of him in so long that even seeing scathing remarks about him does not matter because he is not dead, not like George or even King Edward. 

“He is coming to London as we speak,” the prince continues once he is out of his mother’s grasp. 

“Now what are we to do with him?” Margaret asks herself as much as she is asking Edward. The prince listens to every word that his mother says as though she has hung the stars and the moon herself, as though she can do nothing wrong. 

“Kill him, of course,” Edward answers. Carless, as though it does not matter. _Monster,_ they called him once, and Anne has never found the epithet more true than in that moment. 

“No, you can’t!” she exclaims without thinking, and both the queen and her husband turn to look at her, their faces carved into the same lines of distaste. She can feel the prince’s hate burning into her. Unlike his mother he has not softened, nor has he even given the appearance of softness towards her. He hates her as much as he did on the night of her wedding, when he had made her bleed with no remorse, his hands cold and bruising. “It would be unwise to kill him,” she tries again, softer this time. 

“And why is that?” Margaret asks, her eyes on Anne’s face. Anne twists her fingers into her skirts and tries not to let her anxiety show. She has to breathe before she can respond. 

“You would not want to be seen as merciless,” Anne says, swallowing before pressing forward. 

“Do you think that Edward of York would have shown us mercy?” her husband sneers the word. 

“No, but the people loved the usurper,” Anne says. “Gloucester has nothing now. His brothers are dead, his king is dead. He is utterly at your mercy, and you should keep him with you. He cannot plot beneath your very nose. His loyalty is legendary as well, and if he is killed, none of the loyalty that he has will be yours.”

“And I assume that you would have me allow him his titles as well?”

“Of course.” She thinks of the boy who was once a prince of the blood, always a duke, but also her friend in childhood. She cannot imagine him without his title or his lands. “If you give a man enough rope he will hang himself. Give him dignity and a place at your court. The only way you can truly watch your enemies is to keep them close.” 

The prince looks as though he has some words for Anne, and none of them kind, but his mother stops him with a wave of her hand. “This is good advice. He could run to the York queen at any time. We must keep him here, with us. With Elizabeth Woodville in sanctuary and Gloucester near the king there will be very little that they can do without us knowing.” 

Edward looks as though he wants to argue, but instead he presses his lips together and bows to the queen. “I will inform the guards to release him at once and be brought to the king at once,” he says. He kisses his mother’s hand as he leaves and does not acknowledge Anne at all. 

Margaret watches as he goes before turning to Anne. “Your advice was wise, but I am not sure that the intent behind it was also. Be careful, Princess. I will be watching you very closely. If you betray my son with the Richard, Duke of Gloucester, your neck will be on the very block that you just saved him from.” 

“I would never betray the prince or my house of Lancaster,” Anne says, looking the queen straight in the eye. The words do not even feel false as they fall from her lips, and she wonders if this is why traitors are so dangerous to have near you. Once their heart has turned from your cause, so do their words and their deeds, until nothing of them is yours. 

.

A week passes before Richard is brought to court, and another before they speak. 

The men of court swarm around the queen, but also Anne, to ask for favors and flirt with the young princess. Anne promises them nothing and always acts every inch the princess, in a manner that would make her mother proud. 

All of the courtesies that Anne has learned flee as soon as she sees Richard in the door of her apartments. She stands immediately, without thinking, and all of the spools of thread that were on her lap fall. One of her braver ladies twitters, but Isabel quickly quells them with a glare of pure ice. 

“Princess,” Richard says, acknowledging her first and bowing. It is strange to think that she is of a higher rank than him now. 

“Lord Richard, I am glad to have you at court.” 

He grabs her hand to kiss it, the way that most men do. Though unlike most men he slips a piece of parchment in her hand before pulling away. Anne clutches her hand around the note and brings it to her skirt, where she quickly drops it to hide. 

None of her ladies seem to find anything amiss, aside from Isabel who is sitting the closest to her. Isabel raises her eyebrows but says nothing, and Anne is beyond grateful for her sister in that moment. 

 

“I believe that I have you to thank for that,” Richard says, smiling slightly. He is the perfect courtier, and Anne has no idea what is behind the facade that he has built around himself. This hurts her; he has never hid anything from her before. He has never had to. 

But no longer is he the boy that she knew at Middleham. He is a man now, one older than even her husband. 

“You do. I hope you will stay at court for as long as you shall like,” she says with a nod, before sitting down again. She makes sure that the parchment is completely underneath her skirts before she takes her needle and thread from her sister once again. 

Richard bows before he leaves her apartments, taking his men with him, much to the disappointment of Anne’s ladies. 

.

Isabel is the only lady who has the honor to help Anne dress for bed, and so when they are finally alone her sister whispers, “What did Richard’s note say?” 

“He wants me to meet him in the garden.” 

“Well you cannot, he should know that. He better than anyone should understand.” 

“Izzy, I want to meet him. Richard would not ask me if it was not important.” 

“Do not be stupid! Anne, if you are caught then he will die and you will be dishonored and divorced, or worse. You are a child looking at him with cow eyes no longer, and this will ruin you both.” 

“The prince is not to come to my bed tonight,” Anne presses, “as it is a Wednesday. You will help me, won’t you? Please sister, I need your help. And it will only be for tonight. I will never see Richard like this ever again, I swear to you.” 

Isabel looks at her sister with stone in her eyes before wavering. “And I will never help you ever again,” she promises before digging Anne’s cloak out of her chest. “I fear for you, sister.” 

“I know, but I need to see him. You understand, don’t you? If you could see George again...” 

Pain spasms over Isabel’s face at the mention of her husband, but she pulls herself together quickly enough now. 

“I understand,” she says, pressing a hand to Anne’s arm. 

Anne pulls her hood over her face before leaving through the kitchen, where no one is afoot. Richard knows the palace better than even the queen and prince, she reminds herself. He has lived here longer than either of them. He would not ask her to meet him anywhere if it was possible that they would be caught. 

He is waiting for her near the yew tree, and he turns when he hears her coming. “Anne,” he breathes, and for a moment she forgets that she is Princess of Wales and he is a Duke with the label _traitor_ branded on him like a witch’s mark. 

“Richard.” They look at each other, and she memorizes the things that she does not remember about him. She wishes she could trace the differences with her fingertips, make note of them in every way that she can, but instead she keeps herself away. 

The spell is broken there is a noise behind them, and all of a sudden Anne remembers where they are, who they are, and why she should not feel about him the way that she does. 

“Why did you ask to see me?” she insists, instead of saying something utterly stupid for once. 

“Are you well?” he asks. “Are you happy?”

“I am happier now that you are here,” she admits. He does not look pleased to hear this. 

“I know that I owe everything to you. My life, my titles, all of it. I owe you a debt, and I intend to pay it.” 

He kneels before her as a sign of fealty and she reaches out to bless him. It is a wife’s blessing, and that does not escape Anne. 

Richard grabs her hands before she can completely pull away from him when he stands. “Are you loyal to Lancaster? I need to know, Anne.” 

“I have a husband who hates me, a queen who does not trust me, and a king who probably does not realize who I am,” she says in place of the truth and he nods. 

“I thought as much. I am sorry to have brought you out here for this, but we cannot speak freely inside the castle walls.” He squeezes both of her hands and Anne nods. 

“Are you still loyal to your brother?” 

This is what she wants to know most of all. She knows that the Woodville witch is still in sanctuary, and she has given birth to a child, but if the babe was a boy or a girl is still a secret to her. She knows that her husband hopes that it is a girl, because if it is a boy then he will be a rival for the throne that he has not even gotten to sit upon yet. 

Richard stiffens. “I am,” he answers finally. “I always will be. But I am loyal to you as well.” 

“I would not expect anything different from you, Richard. Our causes may not be the same on the surface, but in my heart there is a white rose.” 

This is treason, and if anyone heard them both she and Richard would have hell to pay. But there is no one to hear them and it has been so long since Anne has felt that she can speak freely. “I must go, Isabel will be waiting for me,” Anne tells him, pulling her hands away. 

There is still so much that she wants to tell him, so much that she never can. He must see that, because he nods and then lets her walk away from him. 

She does not look back. 

.

The next day the queen is furious, all sewing and womanly arts discarded at the urgency of her rage. She is pacing back and forth in agitation, her skirts swishing with every step. “What is it, Your Grace?” Anne asks at the midday meal. 

“The Woodville woman has left sanctuary, her brother with her. The Rivers have taken the children, including her son, and ran. The city of London has helped them, I know they have. They have never liked me, and this is the final proof of their treachery.” 

“And where is my husband?”

“He is looking for them with two hundred men at his command, but he will not find them. They will already be gone. Most likely to Burgundy, where her husband went. Her mother has cousins there, and we will never get them out.”

“Perhaps they will stay there, then, and not be a problem.” 

Margaret turns to look at her sharply. “Of course they will be a problem, you stupid girl. And if they attack and my husband is still on the throne then not even God will be able to save us.” 

“You said yourself that God is on the side of Lancaster,” Anne reminds the queen sweetly. 

“Of course He is.” The queen pauses. “We may just have to help him.” 

.

Two days later, when the prince is back at Westminster, there is a knocking on her door. “The king is dead! God save the King!” they shout, and her husband is in front of her, looking more like a king than she has ever seen him. 

The men and women of the court kneel, and Anne can see Richard among them. she kneels as well before her husband picks her hand up and kisses it. 

“May God bless my father,” Edward, now King Edward V, says. He does not say it like a prayer.


	2. Part Two: Queen of England

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not entirely pleased with this chapter, but I have been staring at it for so long that I figured why not. There are some warnings for this chapter at the bottom if you would like to read them and be semi-spoiled.

Edward is crowned in Westminster Abbey in one of the most stunning displays of opulence that Anne has ever seen. She’s not sure that the crown can afford such lavishness--the King Edward before her husband wasn’t exactly known for his frugality--but Anne understands that all this is to make a point, to show the world that this Lancaster heir is going to bring England to its former glory, to shine brighter than any before him. 

Queen Margaret, who is now the queen dowager, has never looked more radiant. The lines of grief and hard living melt off her face as she watches her son get crowned. She has been waiting her whole life for this moment, and now years of degrading herself and living in exile has come to this: her son is now an anointed king before God and the whole isle of England.

The celebration back at the palace goes on for days. There is dancing and laughter and shouting while Edward mingles with his subjects and blesses the memory of his father. This is a Lancaster victory and there is no sun in splendor to wilt the red rose. 

“And when will my sister be crowned?” Isabel asks Margaret at the high table where she has been standing beside Anne, and it is the first time that Margaret’s smile has slipped all day. 

“When my son sees that she is fit to be crowned,” Margaret replies, frowning. She gets up to stand beside her son as he talks to the Duke of Somerset instead of choosing to remain behind with the Neville girls. 

“That was not smart, Izzy,” Anne reprimands her sister, who only shrugs. 

“At least she is not sitting here anymore. Besides, we deserve to know. Now that he’s crowned you should be as well, it is only fair.” 

“Unfortunately, I don’t think she will want to be fair towards me.”

“Father is the only reason that any of this happened, you and I both know that. She wouldn’t be here today if it wasn’t for him.”

Anne knows this is true, knows that her father died for her to be queen. She wants to be queen, if only because it is inevitable. This was her father’s dream, his vision, and she wants it almost as much as she does not want her husband. 

“I will be queen one day, and I am sure it will not be long now,” Anne assures her sister. 

“I pray that you are right, because I have a feeling that you are not.” 

.

“This is a glorious day indeed,” a voice behind her says, and Anne turns to find Richard looking down at it. She smiles at his presence, if not his words. 

“Do you remember the last coronation feast that we were both at?” Anne asks him before she can think better of it. His expression freezes at the reminder of his sister-in-law, now in exile in Burgundy, but he nods. 

“I do. We were so young then, so full of hope.” 

“So much has changed since then.” She remembers her mother telling her that Isabel was to marry George and she was to marry Richard that day, and how excited she had been, how her heart had fluttered just from looking at him. 

She can feel the fluttering of her heart still, and not just the ghost of it, which does not bode well at all now. 

“Nearly everything,” he agrees. “One thing that has not changed, is that I would like to ask you to dance. I had wanted to on that day but I did not know how.”

“If you had asked me I would have said yes.” 

Richard smiles. “I know. Would you like to dance now?”

Anne hesitates to put her hand in the one he has held out to her, glancing at the dowager queen. She is speaking to some of her ladies, her eyes not on Anne for once, but she still remembers the threats that Margaret had managed to make sound like a promise. 

“I am not the first man to ask you to dance, nor will I be the last,” Richard reminds her, his voice low. “You are the beautiful queen-to-be, it wouldn’t be surprising or suspicious that I would want to dance with you.” 

“Yes, you are right. I am just worried that I will show that I want to dance with you too much.” 

Richard blinks, his head rearing back and betraying his surprise. She places her hand in his and allows him to take her to the dance floor before he can say anything else. Anne remembers all of the correct steps and forces herself not to watch Richard too closely. They never touch, but they are close enough that she can feel the warmth of his body and color rushes to her cheeks at the thought. 

The dance is over too soon, but Anne is grateful for that as well, grateful that she can finally step away from him. 

“Your Grace.” She curtsies to him and turns to go, but he grabs her wrist before she can go. No one seems to be paying them any attention for once, and so she does not pull away. 

“Is there any way that I can get a note to you? Any way at all?” he asks, low enough for only her ears, his eyes searching her face. 

“My sister. You will have to talk to her. Nothing goes on in my household without her knowing about it.” 

He nods before letting go of her and she wishes that he didn’t have to let go at all. 

.

Edward’s first act as king is to tax London heavily as punishment for their aid to Elizabeth Woodville as she escaped with her brother and children for Burgundy. Anne finds this unfair in the extreme, and says so. 

“Do not try to command me,” her husband tells her, not even bothering to look up from the letter that he is reading. 

“I was not commanding, merely saying-” Anne attempts to start, but before her husband can even respond his mother cuts in. 

“Your guidance is not welcome when you are not asked,” Margaret remarks. “A wife’s place is to defer to her husband’s authority, not to defy him.” 

“Of course. I apologize,” Anne says, bending her head and looking at the rings on her fingers instead of her mother-in-law. She thinks of how Margaret commanded armies while her own husband was ill, sleeping or praying. Of how she has asked for Anne’s opinion before, and now it is as if nothing she says could matter. Anne watched her father rule in the north for long, prosperous years. Edward has watched his mother scrounge for every pence, for every scrap of power, and it is not nearly the same. “I was merely thinking of the people of London.” 

“They should have thought about that before aiding the false queen.” 

Clearly, Margaret will not bend. She hates London for barring its doors to her once and will not forgive the people here no matter what anyone says. 

“You do not need to have an opinion here,” the king says. She remembers how he had tried to silence before and his mother had stopped him. In this matter she will not win, but perhaps in time she can convince Margaret that she can provide counsel as well. 

“She does. A queen must,” Margaret tells her son, surprising them both. “Anne might be a stupid thing who is not queen yet, but she will be queen eventually, and her words will mean something one day. That does not mean that you will have to listen to her.” 

“I will never listen to a daughter of Warwick,” Edward promises, and Anne can feel a lump in her throat. If her father hadn’t sacrificed his life for the Lancastrian cause none of them would be in this room today, and Edward certainly would not be able to wear a crown on his head. The injustice of it all makes Anne’s throat burn.

She expects the queen to say something, anything, in her defense but Margaret only nods. 

.

A month passes, then three, then six. Before long a whole year passes and still Anne is not named queen. 

When they are alone Isabel is irate on her behalf. “How can he think to do this to you?” Isabel demands, helping Anne dress for bed. “It has been over a year now, and you deserve the crown. His mother has to be the one who is doing this, I promise you.” 

“I doubt it,” Anne says. “She does not like me, but neither does she dislike me.”

“One word from her and you would be sitting on that throne,” Isabel swears, undoing the plait in Anne’s hair. “There, all done.” She kisses her sister on the cheek before sitting on the bench next to her, both of them in the looking glass. 

“I wish you could sleep here with me, like when we were girls,” Anne sighs. The king won’t come tonight, and as far as Anne can see not any night. They will need children eventually, Anne knows, heirs for the kingdom, but they are still young yet. Edward seems to think that they will have children eventually, and so he does not come. 

The court knows of the king’s absence from her bed and they laugh. Isabel refuses to say anything about this, but Anne is no fool. She can guess what the court is saying, that she is ugly and infertile, a plain, frigid girl from the north. 

Sometimes Anne wishes that he would come, if only to stop the laughter and fill the loneliness that she feels despite the fact that her sister is by her side. Anne does not know if she would be able to do this without Isabel. 

“I know,” Isabel tells her. “I wish it as well. I miss Middleham so much that I ache for it, sometimes.” 

Anne thinks of the northern castle that her father loved so much, that she loves so much now. The king passed Middleham by on the summer progress as though he knew that, and so she has not been there in years. She would love to see it again, one day. 

“Speaking of Middleham...Izzy, will you please get a message to Richard for me?”

Immediately Isabel stills. “Anne...”

“He is my friend, and only ever been my friend, and since childhood.”

“You are lying. I know that your feelings for him are not at all brotherly or childlike.” 

“Isabel, please. You are my only hope.” 

“This is a dangerous game you are playing,” Isabel warns, but she does not say no, and that is enough reason for Anne to smile for the first time all day. 

The note is already written, hidden in one of the secret compartments in her chest of gowns, and she places it in Isabel’s hand. Izzy takes a long look at it before placing it in her sleeve. 

“Thank you. I would not ask this of anyone else.” 

“That is because you have no one else that you can trust.”

“I can trust you, and I can trust Richard. That is enough for now.” 

.

Two days later Richard responds. Meet me in the yew garden, his note reads, and Anne reads it once, twice, three times before throwing it into the fire. She wishes she could keep it, but she knows the danger in that and does not attempt to try. 

The night sky is moonless when Anne walks to the garden in one of Isabel’s cloaks. The hem drags upon the ground, but it is as much cover as she and Isabel decided that she need to have in case anyone sees them, though that does not seem to be likely to happen. 

Richard is waiting for her under the cover of the trees, and she almost jumps before she realizes that it is him. He turns to her, a half-smile on his face. This is the witching hour, and as Anne listens to the wind howl she realizes why it is called this. It seems like anything could happen at this time of night, on this night. 

“You wanted to see me, Your Grace?” 

“Yes, I did.” Anne’s mind goes blank as she tries to recall the all of the reasons that she called him out here. She simply wanted to see him again, to be able to look at him without guilt or the fear of someone watching her every move and reporting it to the queen. She is ashamed that they have to resort to this. “Why did you never write to me?”

“I wasn’t sure if my letters would be welcome.”

“Of course they would be. You are my friend.” _A friend that I can only see in the dark of night,_ she thinks. _A friend of the forbidden kind._

Richard’s grin grew rueful at the word friend. “Yes, I know. And I swore fealty to you, a little more than a year ago, and yet you have never asked anything of me.”

“I don’t know what I would want, or what I have to ask of you that you could actually give me.”

“And what do you want?” he asks. 

Anne bites her lip to keep from saying the first thing that pops into her head which is _you_. “What I want is of little consequence, I’m afraid.” 

“If you want the crown, well, the reason that he hasn’t made you queen is plain.” 

“Not to me it isn’t.” 

“The people love you, Anne. It’s as simple as that,” Richard says. “When the king and his mother were acting as though London was of little consequence you waved to them, and you placed yourself in their hearts after that. The king didn’t crown you with him because they would have cheered the loudest for you. Edward and Margaret are foreign strangers to them, but you are an English woman born and bred, as well as kind, and you do not hate them. They think of you as the Summer Queen to the King of Ice, though you are not yet crowned.”

“And how could you possibly know that?” Anne asks, thinking of the way the court sniggers at her on occasion. Could this be true? She couldn’t think of it herself, but it would make sense.

“Do you think a man who is spied on as heavily as I am wouldn’t have spies of his own?”

The mention of spies makes Anne scan the garden, but she sees no one but Richard, and so she feels that she can relax again. 

“No, I suppose not.” 

“I’m sorry that I cannot give you the crown, though, however much you want it. If the second thing that you want is your husband’s presence in your bed...do you truly want him there?” 

Richard’s eyes burn into hers, and Anne hardly knows what to say. She does not want to tell him the truth, because the truth is shameful and goes against what the church says is correct, and yet she cannot help the words from slipping out anyway.

“No,” she whispers, thinking of blood on sheets and how her wrists had ached for days after her wedding. “But I would like a child, and I would like to not be so alone at night.” 

“I cannot give you the child that you want,” Richard tells her. There’s a part of her that hopes that one of the notes in his voice is regret, but she can’t be sure. “but I could see you at night. Here, in the garden. Not every night, of course, but we could be alone together.” 

“Are you alone as well, Richard?” Anne asks. He is young and strong and yet he has chosen not to marry. She is not arrogant enough to imagine that it is about her--but she would like it to be, deep down. Imagining him marrying anyone hurts in a way that few things do, anymore. 

“Not as alone as you, I would guess,” Richard grins, “but in a way, yes.” 

She reaches out to grab his hand, and he squeezes her hand before threading their fingers together. He does not let go.

.

Almost on the two year anniversary of Edward’s own coronation does he allow Anne to be crowned as well. She remembers Isabel’s words of being a queen of stone from years and years ago, and speaking of how Elizabeth Woodville did not seem regal, but she finds that it is easier not to be when the crowd is chanting for you. 

From what Anne can remember, London did not cheer this loud for her husband, and there’s a vindictive part of Anne that hopes that he and his mother notice this. She waves at the crowd and cannot stop the smile from appearing on her face. 

This is what her father wanted for her, this had been his hope and his dream. One of his daughters is now on the throne. He died for this to happen and finally, finally, almost three years after his death, his daughter is queen. 

When the bishop places the crown on Anne’s head she finds herself thinking of her father, of how proud he would be to see her now, despite everything. 

Neither of her parents are here to see her triumph--to see their triumph--but her sister is and that has to be enough. Isabel helped her pick her gown and the shade of purple and had seen her walk down the aisle, and she had smiled through it all. If Isabel, who had thought she would be queen at one time, is unhappy of where they are now, Anne cannot tell. Isabel had never wanted the crown, but they are sisters and therefore rivals. And yet, there is not a hint of malice in Isabel’s eyes as she watches the coronation, and Anne is glad. She would hate to lose her sister’s trust over something as pointless as a crown.

.

The feast is elaborate and she sits the entire night at her husband’s right hand. Margaret sits on his other side and the three of them are silent at the head table, watching the court celebrate. Anne smiles through it all, because they are dancing for _her_. This is her triumph. 

Edward’s face is frozen, and she wonders what changed his mind before she realizes that she does not care. He will not put her aside, not now that she is the queen, and that within itself is a triumph. 

Isabel is shining, having ordered a new gown for the occasion, and she turns men’s heads with every sweep of her skirt. “Your sister should be married soon, don’t you think?” Margaret asks finally, watching her. 

“No, of course not.”

“Why not? She is far beyond her year of mourning, and now she is the queen’s sister with lands of her own. A fine match for any man.” 

“She will not want to get married, and she will not consent to it.” 

“Isabel will have to do as I command,” the king says, watching Isabel dance with hunger on his face, and Anne does not have a good feeling about this. 

“Please, Your Majesty, I beg of you. Don’t do this to my sister.” She almost entreats to him on her own behalf, but she knows that would just make him even more unreasonable. 

“If she is worried about losing her rank of Duchess, she can always marry one of my cousins in France,” the queen dowager adds. 

“The dowager duchess will not have to marry...yet,” Edward decides. Margaret looks as though she would like to argue, but she does not, glancing down at the plate of beef instead. This does not feel like such a victory. 

.

“The queen was making noise of your marriage at the feast,” Anne tells her sister as they get ready for bed that night. 

Isabel makes a disparaging noise at the back of her throat. “I would never, and besides, I will never marry below the rank of duchess, so I wish them luck finding me a husband.”

“Margaret was speaking of her cousins in France...”

“A Frenchman? Definitely not!” Isabel says, shaking her head. “I would join a convent first.” 

“I would beware the king,” Anne warns. “I do not like how he looks at you.” 

“Anne, I swear to you, nothing will happen between me and the king. I would never do that to you and it would be incest besides, as I am his sister in the eyes of God.” 

“I know, I am just so worried.” 

“He is a king. They are known to be unfaithful.” Isabel shrugs. 

“I do not care about that, as you know. I just do not want anything to happen at all. Is it terribly selfish of me to wish that you will be with me always?”

“No, of course not. And besides, now you need me more than ever. All of the eyes of the court are upon you now, even more than they were before you were queen.” 

.

Marriage is still on Anne’s mind two days later, when she and Richard finally can meet again. As time goes on the less guilty she feels about sneaking out to meet him in the garden. She learns the way of the castle (on Wednesdays the cook always gets drunk and as such there is no one in the kitchens on that night, Saturdays are the days when there are most often to be other couples having illicit rendezvous in the gardens, Mondays there is no one in the garden at all) in a way that she would not have otherwise. 

This is not behavior fit of a queen, this is not dutiful. This is girlish and foolish and dangerous, she knows that, _Richard_ knows that, but he does not suggest stopping either. They do nothing more than talk, and sometimes hold hands, and there is no treason in that. They have been friends since childhood-- _only_ friends. 

This is the only reason that Anne feels comfortable asking Richard, “Have you thought of bestowing upon a woman the title of Duchess of Gloucester?” 

He looks stunned by her question. “No, of course not. No father wants their daughter to marry a man of whom the king is constantly suspicious, and there is no one that I like enough at court that I would ask.” 

She has to take a deep breath to steady herself before saying “And that’s the only reason?”

Richard’s face goes from surprised to amused in the space of one heartbeat. “No, Your Majesty, no it is not.” 

“I wish you wouldn’t call me by my titles,” Anne pouts. 

“Just the once, since I have never been able to call you that. And now you are queen, just like your father wanted.” Richard’s voice grows bitter when he mentions her father, and she understands. The Earl of Warwick was the one that led to all of this, that led to the destruction of the house of York. 

“I know.” She feels like that has all she has heard or thought about, her father. Her mother is still stuck in an abbey, and despite Anne’s pleas for Margaret to speak to her son, she seems to be stuck there for the unknown future. 

“Do you ever wonder what things would have been like, if everything had turned out differently?” 

“I do not have to wonder, I know what would have happened.” 

“And what is that?” Anne asks. 

“I would have married you and we would be in the north somewhere, and you would have at least one child to hold in your arms by now, maybe even two or three. We would have been happy.” 

He paints the picture so clearly in her mind that Anne almost aches from wanting something that can never happen, that will never exist. She has to swallow a lump in her throat before she can respond. “You seem to have thought this through,” she says. 

“Yes, I suppose I have. But there is no point in lingering on things that will never come to pass.”

“You are right, of course. I am just being silly.” 

“You could never be silly to me, Anne,” Richard tells her, before changing the topic completely.

.

A year after she is crowned the king begins to come to her bed in a way that he has not since their wedding night.

“Your Majesty,” she says, curtseying when she sees him in the doorway. All of her maids scatter when they realize who has come to call this time of night, giggling as they go. Only Isabel lingers behind, her gaze on Anne’s face. Only when Anne nods Isabel goes, and then it is only she and the king alone in her chamber. 

Anne pours him a cup of wine and stands until he motions for her to sit down as well, cup still in his hand. 

“We have to have an heir. You know this, I presume?” he asks, as though she is stupid and does not know a wife’s place, a woman’s place, in the world. 

“Of course.”

“Well then, we might as well get this done.” The king throws back the goblet of wine in one gulp and then grabs her wrist, dragging her towards the bed without another word. She remembers all over again how horrible a bedding can be, but things are better this time because she knows what to expect. 

In the end she hardly feels the pain, and there is not nearly as much blood by the time he leaves. She feels as though she can detach herself, and if that’s what saves her in the end, she will do it every time he so much as looks at her when they are alone. 

That night Anne thinks of Katherine de Valois, who loved Owen Tudor; of Margaret who was said to have loved Edmund Beaufort; of herself, who has always loved Richard and wonders what it is about Lancastrian husbands that makes their wives and queens unable to love them. 

.

For months Anne endures her husband forcing himself upon her, month after month, until her courses stop. She is afraid that this does not mean anything--she has missed before and nothing has come of it--until she misses the second month, and the third as well. 

“You must go and tell the physician,” Isabel urges her. “You could be carrying the future King of England.”

“I feel like if I tell anyone else that it will not end well.” She has a bad feeling at the pit of her stomach at the thought, and that does not bode well at all. 

“There is no room for superstition here, Anne. Don’t be stupid. I’ll go get the physician myself.” 

“No, Izzy-” Anne starts, but Isabel has already swept from the room. 

The physician comes and confirms what Anne already knows, and so she sends for the king to come to her chambers, which she has not done for their entire marriage. 

Edward comes, which honestly surprises her, but he does not come alone. He comes with a whole entourage of men, Richard included. Anne does not look at him, focusing instead on the king with everything that she has. 

“I am with child,” she tells Edward quietly so that only those closest to the two of them--Richard and Isabel and Edmund Beaufort--can hear her. 

“Are you certain?” her husband asks, something like excitement lighting his eyes. 

“Yes, I consulted a physician this morning.” 

“I must tell my mother. This changes everything.” He turns to go, a smile on his face, and the Duke of Somerset follows him. Richard lingers behind, and that makes her stomach form knots, though she knows that she needs to stay pleasant for the baby. 

“Congratulations, Your Majesty,” he says, bowing slightly. His face is impassive, but the kind of impassive that says that he is hiding something behind the facade. 

Anne cannot trust herself to speak, so she is relieved when Isabel answers, “Yes, we are very happy. Hopefully all of court will know the news soon.” 

“Indeed.” Richard bows again before leaving the room, and Anne watches him go. They only seem to ever be walking away from each other. 

.

Margaret calls Anne to her chambers and examines her as though she is a horse, just like she had before she had allowed her precious son to marry Anne. 

“Your mother only had two live children, and girls at that,” Margaret says, circling around Anne like a vulture circling a carcass. “If you are to do your duty you must do better than that.”

“Of course, Your Grace.” 

“I know things have not been...easy for you. But when you have a child everything will be worth it, you shall see. Loving a child is easier than loving a husband.” 

_I pray you are right,_ Anne thinks but doesn’t say. 

.

Two months later Anne wakes to a pool of her own blood and starts screaming for Isabel to come and help her. 

Her screams alert all of the maids, who see the bright red stains on the pure white sheets, and by morning the whole castle knows that Anne has failed, that she has had a miscarriage, that she is weak and frail and unable to carry a child. 

Edward blames her, she can see it in his eyes when he comes to visit her. He had seemed to be hating her less as their child grew, but now the familiar hatred is back and has doubled in its intensity. 

“We will just have to try again,” he says, and she finds that there is nothing that sounds worse. 

.

Anne is finally allowed out of bed a week later and she can barely stand the barely veiled pity in the eyes of her ladies. There is nothing more pitiful than a woman who cannot do her duty--the one thing that God created women to do--and though this is only one miscarriage it is still not a good omen. 

She will be cast aside if she cannot bear anymore children. She knows that, and yet she cannot bear to think of that. All of the waiting and humiliation will be for naught if she will not keep her crown. 

The babe had moved inside of her, Anne is sure of it. He had moved and then he had died and it had been because of her body. One day he had been alive and now he is dead without even a name or a baptism. 

Castle walls can become suffocating. Anne had never realized this before, always thinking of castles as huge things, but now she knows better. Court is full of nothing but treachery and gossip and deceit and by the time she is ready for bed she is sick of it. 

“I am going for a walk in the garden,” she tells Isabel, refusing to sleep. Her nights have been full of nothing but nightmares since she lost the child anyway. The dreams are full of blood and loss and she wakes up feeling empty. 

“Do you want me to accompany you? Or call for a guard?” 

“No. I wish to be alone.” 

Anne throws on her cloak and walks out, not caring who sees. She has not seen Richard alone since her husband started bedding her again, and she does not know if she will ever see him again. There are times when she thinks that having him by her side would help her with this, but she knows that this is her cross to bear. 

The night is cold, snow falling softly from the sky, and the moon illuminates the garden path. She follows the path, not bothering to hide in the shadows. For once she has nothing to hide here, nor does she wish to.

The walk helps clear her head and for the first time all week she feels strong and the sadness that has smothered every other feeling seems to lessen some. 

She is so focused on her feelings of lightness, on the sensation of grief not weighing down her every step, that Anne hardly notices Richard until he is upon her. 

He has just stepped out of the shadows that were beside her. He was with someone, and yet that someone has melted into the darkness of the garden, and Anne knows that she will not see him again nor find out who he was. 

“Anne,” Richard says. “I was not expecting to see you again.” 

“I came out to clear my head. I am surprised to see you here as well.”

“I had business to attend to.” 

There is only one kind of business that Richard can have outside the castle walls this time of night, and Anne is not sure that she wants to know the details. “Does this business have to do with your brother?” 

“Perhaps.” 

“Well then, I will leave you to it,” she says, picking up her skirts, preparing to walk away, when Richard reaches out to grab her arm. 

“Anne, wait.”

She removes her arm from his grasp. “Yes?” 

“I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am.”

His words take a moment to process, but she knows immediately what is is speaking of. “Most people would not say anything at all,” she replies. 

“Well, I am not most people. And we have known each other for a long time and I know when something is upsetting you. You do not look well.” 

Anne studies his face, wondering what his words mean. The fact that they can no longer be exactly clear with each other saddens her. 

“I am weary,” she admits finally. “And grieving. And afraid. This has just given my husband more reason to hate me.” 

Richard grimaces. “He would do that anyway.” 

“I know. And I know he hates you too, simply because I defended for you all those years ago, and I am sorry for that. I know you are suffering at court and yet he will not let you go.” 

“Do not worry about me. I will be fine and it is better if he keeps me close. But one day I will have to leave and not even the king will be able to stop me.” 

Anne wonders what he means by this, exactly, what he could mean to accomplish by telling her what she thinks he’s telling her. He trusts her not to tell her husband, not that she would ever contemplate doing so. 

.

The king does not get her with child again, nor does he depose her. Anne wonders how much of this is the people’s opinion of her--if what Richard said is true, if the people care for her that much. She makes a point to wave and blow kisses to the crowds, even though now she is growing older and is no longer a girl. 

Together Anne and Isabel fight off every offer for Isabel’s hand in marriage, especially ones that are made for the queen’s cousins in France. Her sister continues to be her only friend through everything. 

When the king formally takes a mistress Isabel is more upset about the injustice than Anne is. The more time he spends with his whore, the less time he will have to spend with her. Let her husband look for love and affection elsewhere, for he will never find any with her. 

For a while things are good and Anne comes to relax. England does not settle comfortably under the Lancastrians again, but they do grow used to them, just as she knew they would. Occasionally her husband does things that make the people grumble but there are no rebellions and no one can doubt that he is of a sound mind. 

Anne begins to believe that maybe she can accept her fate and all will be well. She believes this for years until, inevitably, things begin to go wrong. 

.

 _Meet me in the garden tonight. This will be the last time,_ Richard’s letter reads. Anne quickly throws the note into the fire and watches the edges curl on themselves before the whole thing is nothing more than ash. 

She waits until midnight, not even telling Isabel that she is going until she is already gone. 

The night is balmy and the flowers are sweet. Summer is fully here and in a week’s time the court begins the summer progress. 

She waits at their usual spot, beneath the yew tree, and wonders if she will ever be able to look at this tree the same again. Anne has felt happiness here, and love, but also despair. And now she will say good-bye under this tree and nothing will be the same. 

She knows exactly what he is going to tell her and she is unafraid, though she will miss seeing his face. Anne has loved him for so long that she will not know what to do with the absence of it.

Richard comes minutes later and the first thing that he does is grip her hands in his until they hurt. “I am leaving,” he says finally. “To meet my nephew, officially. He is ten years now, and has nothing but Woodville influence. If I do not go now then there will be no hope for him at all.” 

“I knew this day would come,” Anne tells him. “I knew you would have to leave me, despite swearing fealty to me.” 

“I am doing this as a part of my fealty to you, Anne. I am doing this out of loyalty, both to you and my brother. But I am also doing this out of-” Richard stops himself, seeming for all the world as though he is not sure of the words that he wants to use. 

“Out of what?” she prompts. 

“Out of love. I love you, Anne. I think I always have.” 

“Oh, Richard.” 

Anne’s heart begins to beat in her ears and she can feel his fingers where they are interlocked with hers. 

“You do not have to say anything,” he tells her quickly. “It would not be right and you could lose your life from it. Men are expected to love queens, but queens, queens are not supposed to love men that are not their husbands.” 

Anne knows that he read the stories of King Arthur and wonders how he cannot find it possible for a queen to love someone other than her husband. 

“I love you too. You can’t leave me without knowing that. I have loved you for so long that I cannot tell you when it began, but it did, years and years ago when I was a girl and only knew happiness.” 

She does not know who leans in first, who draws the other person closer, only that they are apart one moment and the next moment they are not. Richard is kissing her like no man has ever kissed her before and she beings to feel a hunger that she has never felt before. 

She feels lots of things that she has never felt before by the time that their clothes are discarded in the dark of the shadows. Richard’s kisses feel her with light, and his hands make a fire grow underneath her skin until she can feel nothing but want for him. 

Anne has never known anything like this before and when he enters her she is no longer afraid, not of her own feelings, not of what they are doing, not of her husband finding out that she is no longer unfaithful only in mind. Anne can feel nothing but Richard, and he can feel nothing but her. 

.

The summer progress begins and Richard and his men disappear into the night as if they were never there at all. Edward is beyond incensed, and curses all of the guards and wonders aloud how they could have let him go, for now Richard was surely halfway to Burgundy. 

“This is your fault,” he screams at her. “You promised me that he would be loyal.”

“I cannot control the hearts of men,” Anne says, not shrinking back from her husband’s words. Edward looks as though he would like to slap her, but Margaret keeps him back. 

“Anne had nothing to do with this,” Margaret says. “This is Yorkist treachery at its finest. You treat him kindly for years and then he betrays you thus.”

“I will kill him,” Edward swears. “When I find him I will kill him.” 

.

The king’s men never find Richard and there are reports that he has reached Burgundy and the York prince, but that is all they ever hear. Anne is glad of it.

.

Anne misses three monthly courses, just as she had the last time, before she calls the physician to examine her. He nods and Anne can do little but smile at the thought. 

“I will tell the king myself,” the physician says, obviously wanting favor with a king who has been heirless for years. 

“Of course. Call my sister in, if you please.” 

Isabel comes into Anne’s chambers with confusion on her face, but as she takes in Anne’s smile the confusion blooms into understanding. 

“You are with child again, aren’t you?” 

“Yes.” 

Isabel’s voice grows lower. “And you are sure that it is the king’s?”

“How did you...?” Anne trails off. 

“Your dress was soaked in mud, I had to pay off the maids to destroy it without telling anyway. Oh, Anne.”

“No one can ever know,” she says hurriedly. “You can never tell anyone, and besides, we cannot be sure.” 

“Of course I will never tell anyone. But Anne, what are you going to do if Edward won’t recognize the child?” 

“He will. He will have to.” 

.

This pregnancy is not as easy as the first, and Anne takes this as a sign from God Himself that this is how things are supposed to be. Every time she is sick in her chamber pots in the morning, every time her ankles swell, she feels happiness alongside the misery. 

Margaret watches everything unfold with interested eyes, but she says nothing. Anne wonders how much she guesses, but she does not dare ask. 

On Edward’s part he treats her the same as he always has, with indifference. There is no question for him that she is carrying his child, and that makes her sigh in relief. 

The babe is high and she imagines that it is a boy. If things were as they should be, this boy would be the future Duke of Gloucester. Now he is to be the king of England, and Anne cannot feel guilt for putting her son upon the throne despite the fact that he may be illegitimate. After all, so may the king that is sitting there now. 

.

Anne’s son is born with a weak cry, but he is alive, and he is a boy, and Anne’s work is finally done. Fourteen hours it took to put him in this world, and worth every second. “I want to hold him,” she manages to croak, and Isabel smiles as she places her son into her arms. 

“What will you call him?” she asks. 

“Edward, I think,” Anne decides. She is not thinking of her husband, but instead another king, one who had been golden and tall and strong, but above all lucky until he was not. She wants the same thing for her son. 

“A good choice, Your Grace,” the midwife says, and Anne smiles. They are all pleased that the long birth has resulted in a boy. Anything else and all of the hard work would have been for nothing. 

.

The king is overjoyed with the news, and as soon as Anne is churched there is a feast to celebrate the prince’s birth.

She cannot care less about it. She just wants to spend all of her time in the nursery with her son, holding him close. This is where Isabel finds her one night, simply staring at her little Ned. 

“I should have known you were in here. Were you counting his toes again? I assure you he has not lost any since the last time you were in here,” Isabel says. 

“I would just like to spend time with my son. He is a beautiful boy, wouldn’t you agree?” she asks one of his nursemaids, who spend even more time with Ned than she does. 

“Oh yes,” the nursemaid says. “And such dark hair, even though both yourself and the king are so fair.” 

“A gift from his aunt,” Anne says smoothly. 

“And lucky indeed, for everyone knows that I was the more beautiful Neville sister.” 

The nursemaids look horrified but Anne can only laugh, which causes her body to shake and her son to wake. His eyes are blue, like hers, and for a moment he seems bewildered to have been woken up before he begins to cry. 

“Your lies offend him,” Anne says as she soothes her son by patting his back lightly. He is such a delicate thing that she is afraid that any movement will break him. 

“It is lucky that you have the chance to spend so much time with him now,” Isabel says, watching with a bemused look on her face. 

“What do you mean?”

“He is to go to Wales at the end of the week, the king announced it this morning.” 

“Already? They are taking my son away from me already?” 

Anne grips her son tighter to her chest without realizing it, and Ned begins to scream in surprise. This time when a nursemaid reaches for him she lets them have him. 

“You knew this would happen...” Isabel hedges. 

“Not now, they cannot do this to me now,” Anne says, walking to the king’s chambers. He is only with his mother and so Anne barges in, Isabel trailing behind her.

“How can you be taking him from me now?”

“Edward has to go,” the king says. “Now is as good a time as any. This is not important enough to bother me with.” 

“Queen Margaret, you have to disagree!” Anne begs to the one woman that she swore she would never beg to. This is what it means to have a child, she thinks. “He has not been born for a week, surely this is dangerous and cruel. You know, you are a mother. Your child was with you always! Please, do not take him from me.” 

Margaret does not seem moved. “That was a time of war. This is peace and we must show Wales that we trust them with our heir. The preparations have been made and you can do nothing to stop them.” 

.

The day Anne’s son is taken away from her she weeps bitterly and spends the rest of the day in her room. Only Isabel comes to comfort her. 

“You will see him again, you know. This is not the end of the world.” 

“He was mine, mine and mine alone. They take everything from me.” 

“Oh, Annie,” Isabel breathes. “I have never known you to be melodramatic. No one took me from you, did they. You fought for me to remain single, and I have. Nor did they take Richard from you, though it may have been wiser just to kill them. Count your blessings and ask to see your little Ned as often as you can.” 

“You are right,” Anne says, sitting up. “Of course you are right. I will wait for the chance to ask to see him and then I _will_ see him again.” 

This may not be true for his father, but it is true for her son. Anne will be with Ned as often as possible. 

.

A year and a half passes before she is granted permission to go to Wales and see her son. She asked if she could miss the second half of the second half of the summer progress in lieu of staying in Wales, and the king had accepted only when she had mentioned that Margaret could act in her place. 

King Edward seems pleased enough with Ned’s progression and growth, but Anne is not. While the court is visiting she can only see him at night, and so she sneaks into the nursery to look at him. He is so small and he does not know her.

The court leaves only after a few days of visiting, leaving behind Anne and Isabel and a few other ladies. 

“Alone at last,” Isabel sighs when they eat the midday meal. 

“You are not alone, I am with you,” Anne protests. She had not even asked if Isabel would have liked to go on the progress instead of staying with her, and now feels a twinge of guilt.

“I might as well as be alone here, you will want to spend all your time with your son.” 

This is not far from the truth. As soon as Anne is done she goes to the prince’s rooms. He is sitting in one of the nursemaid’s laps, giggling. When he notices that she is in the doorway he stops, and Anne is so jealous of the fact that he will laugh for ladies that are not his mother that she could spit. 

“Can I hold him?” She feels silly for even asking, but she is almost afraid to just grab Ned. 

The nursemaid holding him passes him to her, and her son stills as he studies her face. 

“Oh yes, your lady mother is here now,” she tells him. He is so much heavier than he was the last time she saw him. Then he had been the slip of a babe, but now he is sturdy and strong. Anne kisses his forehead, and he squirms but does not scream, and she considers that a triumph. 

.

Days pass before Ned is completely comfortable with her, but soon they are outside together every waking moment. Isabel often comes with them, claiming that she is bored out of her mind.

They are watching Ned run about the flowers together, sitting on a blanket that Isabel had stolen from a linen closet, when Anne finally finds the courage to ask. “I have not deprived you of anything, keeping you with me, insisting to Queen Margaret that you are not yet ready for marriage? Do you want children of your own? Should I create a match for you?”  


Isabel turns towards Anne and grabs her hand. “No. After I lost my son on that ship, after I lost my husband on a battlefield, I never wanted anything to do with motherhood or being a wife ever again. I feel like I had my chance and no man could replace George, nor any child could replace that son. I’m glad to be with you, Anne, always.”  


"I’m glad of it. I never wanted to be the reason that you were unhappy." She wants to say more, but suddenly Ned comes flying towards them, flowers crushed in his chubby fists. He throws the first flower towards Anne, and the other towards Isabel before falling into his aunt’s arms. 

“Being here with you and Ned is the happiest that I have been in years,” Isabel swears before peppering her nephew’s face with kisses while he squeals with laughter. 

. 

Anne cries the whole way back to London, and Isabel does as well, though she will not admit it later. She wishes more than anything that she could be a mother first and a queen second, but of course wishes do not come true. Especially not hers.

.

Anne’s mother begins to write in earnest after that perfect summer, and that is when Anne is sure that everything is back to normal. Her mother writes to her to influence her husband, the king, to allow her out of the abbey. Nan writes to the king, as well as _his_ mother, and Isabel, but it is to no avail. 

“I have written to your mother and told her that she is not getting out of that abbey any time soon,” Edward promises the one time she brings the letters to his attention. “She is a coward and she ran from battle. I cannot say that even of you.” 

“Yes, of course,” Anne nods, planning to write as well. Her mother will not be happy, but she will have to continue being unhappy, just like the rest of them. 

.

In the eighteenth year of her husband’s rule Anne beings to feel a deep sense of foreboding. Something is going to happen, and she is not sure what, but there is certainly something coming for them all. Whether this is witch’s magic or just knowledge Anne is not sure until the day that the letter arrives. 

Margaret and Anne are sewing together when Edward comes storming in, letter in his hand. This reminds her so much of the last time she had gotten news about Richard in this way that she sways. 

“The York Prince will be invading in less than a month,” he says with a dead voice. “We must begin preparing immediately.” 

At once Margaret rises. “Of course. I will help-” she begins to walk forward, but Edward stops her with his hand on her shoulder. 

“You are not as young as you once were, and I am not a boy anymore. I will not have you or Anne on the campaign. Both of you will go to Rutland tomorrow, and Edward will be coming as well. I cannot risk you. Any of you,” Edward tells her. 

Margaret only nods, though Anne expects her to argue. “Of course,” she says. “Good luck, my son.” 

.

Edward does not come to Anne for a blessing before battle. He most certainly got one from his mother, and she says a prayer for him, but also for the young York prince Edward, and one for Richard, who is sure to be riding beside him. 

The journey to Rutland takes a week, even at full speed, and Ned arrives a week after the both of them. 

Her son knows that something is wrong, and so when he hugs her he holds on for tighter and longer than is customary for him. 

“What is going to happen to us?” he asks Anne one night as she puts him to bed. 

“I don’t know,” Anne answers honestly. “But I am sure your father is doing the best that he can to keep us safe.” 

She is, of course, speaking of Richard.

.

Margaret’s screams are how Anne finds out the outcome of the battle. Margaret sounds like someone has cut off a limb and broken her heart, and it is a horrible thing. Anne is glad that Ned has not yet been woken so that he does not have to witness a woman losing everything that she held dear. 

“What is it?” Anne asks, running to where the messenger sits atop his horse at the front of the drawbridge. 

“Your husband is dead. I am sorry, Your Grace.” 

“Dead,” she whispers the word to herself, unable to truly believe it. “How did it happen?”

“No one knows. Some say it was the wind, others say it was Richard of Gloucester, others still say it was the York king himself who gave the killing blow. 

“Of course.”

“What do you want to do now, Your Grace?” The manager of the household asks Margaret this question, but she does not seem to hear him, still encased in her grief. Anne can feel only pity for her, as she is sure that if Ned ever died she would react much in the same way. 

“Wake the prince and gather all of our things. Get them ready for travel,” Anne commands. “We will meet the new king in Middleham and he can decide from there what will be our fate.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: There is discussion and description of marital rape as well as a miscarriage.


	3. Part Three: Duchess of Gloucester

The ride to Middleham seems to drag on forever. Anne decides that it would be better if none of them were seen riding openly, and so they are all stuffed into the litter and hope for the best. 

Ned is not pleased by this decision, wanting to ride his pony, but that is absolutely out of the question. If the wrong person saw him...well. Anne doesn’t want to think of that. There are plenty of maladies that can cause a child’s death, especially a prince’s. To prove his displeasure Ned pouts for hours before falling into a restless sleep. He does not seem to know how to process the fact that his father is now dead. 

Margaret does not do anything. She does not argue with any of Anne’s decisions, she does not try to override Anne’s authority or oversee what the servants are doing. She does...nothing. She does not seem to be able to process her son’s death either, and has become a shell of a person as a result. It’s strange, seeing what was once such a vibrant woman reduced to nothing, nothing at all. 

The one time she seemed alive was at the mass that Anne organized for her dead husband’s soul before they started the journey to Middleham, and even that was subdued at best. Margaret seems to be acting more the widow than Anne, and Anne would care more about this if she did not have so much to worry about. 

As it is there are worries pressing on her from either side, but she must bear them and hope for the best. Otherwise there is nothing in the world for them at all. 

.

Anne has not been to Middleham since her father had been exiled to France, and seeing it again brings the memory of happiness rushing back to her, as well as real happiness. The castle looks exactly as it had during her childhood and she tells Ned as much. 

“This was where you stayed when you were small?” Ned asks her, seeming not to believe this, and she nods, smiling. 

“Yes, and I will show you the best ponds for fishing and trees for climbing.”

“You climbed trees?” He sounds absolutely scandalized, which makes Anne laugh. 

“No, but my father’s wards did, and I always kept an eye on them.” Mostly Richard, though many boys had come and gone, learning what they needed to become men. 

“Why can you not show me them _today_?” Ned asks, lower lip sticking out. 

Anne taps that lip with her finger before answering. “We must stay inside the castle until the new king comes.” He should be at Middleham at the end of the week, according to the note that she had gotten. It is strange to think that the new king is only days away. 

“The new king who is not father, because father is dead.” 

“Yes.” Anne nods. “You are the Prince of Wales no longer, and I am no longer the Queen of England.” 

“So who will we be then?” her son asks, and Anne finds that she does not know how to answer. 

“We will be whoever the new king commands us to be,” she says after a pause. This new king will decide all, and she can only hope that one of his uncles will champion their cause, and that he will listen to him.

.

Anne can hear them in the yard before she sees them, and judging by the way that Ned jumps he does too. She restrains herself from running to the window the way her son does, instead choosing to stay by Margaret, who is sitting down. If she hears the entourage outside she shows no sign of it. 

They are all wearing their best clothes, choosing to greet the new king in style. The household is nervous, unsure of what the future would hold for them, but brave. Anne is grateful for that. She hadn’t been sure what to expect this morning, but as they were helping her dress one of them whispered, “We are all behind you, Your Majesty,” which had cheered her a bit. 

“They are coming up,” Ned whispers, turning back and coming to grab Anne’s hand, more shy than excited now. She grips her son’s hand tight, not wanting to let him go. 

She can hear the king’s party outside the door before he bursts in, bringing energy with him. 

This king has youth sparkling on his face, his beauty a perfect mix of his father’s and his mother’s. The difference from her own husband is striking. King Edward is all vitality and strength and he is not forgotten or overlooked.

And yet she finds her eyes straying from him anyway, to look at his uncles. Anthony Rivers is at his right hand, not looking aged at all, but at the king’s right is Richard. Richard, who is looking straight at her. Anne feels her breath catch despite herself. 

Richard is staring at her as well, but it does not take long for his eyes to stray to her son. The son that looks so much like him, to the critical eye. Anne has played off Ned’s looks for years, but there will be no hiding them from Richard, or whoever has a strong enough eye. 

Everyone in the room curtseys but Margaret, and Anne fears for them all. But when the king motions of them to rise he looks more amused than anything, as though he was expecting this. Richard and Lord Rivers must have informed him of what she is like. 

Richard is still looking at Ned when Anne rises, and then he turns his stare to her. She can feel his gaze like a physical touch, but ignores it, choosing instead to focus on King Edward. 

Edward extends his hand and Anne kisses his coronation ring, pushing her son to do the same. He was only crowned two days ago, and from all reports his mother is making her home in Anne’s old apartments at Windsor. She cannot find it in herself to care about that, not now. 

“Lady Anne,” he says, his voice a pleasant baritone. For a moment Anne thinks to correct him--it has been so long since she has been called anything but queen--but she remembers herself just in time. 

“Lord Edward.” The king nods and gets on one knee to speak eye to eye with Ned. “Do you know who I am?” he asks. 

“Yes. You are the new king, the rightful king. My grandfather should not have taken the throne from your father, because that was stealing. He stole the crown that was rightfully yours and now you have come to take it back and I am not the Prince of Wales anymore,” Ned informs him, reciting the story that Anne had been telling him every night before bed. 

She had not been expecting Ned to say that much, but at least he did not say something that would damn them all. 

The king chuckles. “Someone has taught you well,” he says, smiling up at Anne. Anne tries to smile back. 

“Lady Anne, do you surrender to me, officially? Or do you wish to go the route of this one,” he says, nodding to Margaret. For the first time since arriving at Middleham, Margaret of Anjou seems to awaken. 

“We are your humble and loyal servants, Your Majesty,” Anne tells him. “Every single one of us.” 

“Coward,” Margaret hisses, and every eye in the room goes to face her. “I should have known that you would not fight for your son’s birthright, that you would just lay down and die. I should have known this was what would happen when you ordered the household to be brought here. And you are doing this for what? To be _his_ whore?” Margaret asks Anne, nodding towards Richard. 

Before she can continue spewing vitriol Richard speaks. “Lady Anne is doing what is right and behaving as a woman should, not sinning against God. You will hold your tongue.” 

“My uncle is right, Margaret of Anjou,” King Edward says, standing even taller than he had before. “I have waited for my day in Burgundy for eighteen years, and I will not allow a treacherous woman to undermine that. Especially not a woman with no husband or heir. Everything you have is mine, and you will do well to remember that, unless you want to be locked in the Tower for the rest of your days.” 

“I would rather do that than be stuck with _her_. I should have known that you would be no daughter of mine.” 

“You are right,” Anne tells her. “I am no daughter of yours. I am the daughter of the Earl of Warwick, the Kingmaker, who made it possible for all of us to be standing here today. I would never lower myself by calling myself _your_ daughter, and you would do well to remember that, Your Grace. You have no sway now, so hold your tongue.” 

Margaret says nothing, as there is nothing left for her to say. The king looks pleased as he turns back to Anne. “Lady Anne, if it is at all possible, could we talk alone?” 

For a moment she hesitates, but can find no way to refuse him, so she nods, excusing everyone. She bends down and kisses Ned on the cheek before sending him out with a maid, and then it is just the king and his uncles. 

“Your Majesty, Your Grace, my lord, would you like some wine?” she asks, determined to be a good hostess. 

“Lady Anne, you do not have to serve us,” King Edward smiles at her and Anne tries to relax, hiding her shaking hands in her skirts. “I am here to reward you for your surrender.” 

“Thank you, Your Majesty, but that would not be necessary, I-” 

“Would you like to keep Middleham?” the king asks, interrupting her. “Your marriage contract left you with your half of your mother’s lands even in the case of divorce, were you aware of that? My uncles and I have studied this extensively, and though Middleham is not included, you can keep the castle. For now...”

Anne hardly knows what to say. “Yes, of course, but...”

“You will have to marry who I chose, when the time comes of course,” King Edward says. “And we will be taking more than half of your men. But you and the prince can stay here under the generosity of the crown until your period of mourning is complete.” 

“I do not know what...thank you, Your Majesty.” 

This is more than fair, more than generous. She did not know what to expect from this king, especially after he spoke to Margaret so harshly, but perhaps he will not hurt them. Perhaps things will turn out well. Anne hopes so. She is so tired of the politics, and would be perfectly content to spend the remainder of her life in the country with Ned.

“It is no bother, Lady Anne. As long as you stay a good and faithful servant than it is nothing at all. You were Queen of England once, just like my mother, and I would be most upset if anyone treated her ill.” 

“Of course,” Anne says. 

“He is being very generous,” Lord Rivers says. “You had best remember that.”

“I will, there is no question. May I ask what will happen to Margaret of Anjou?” 

“That is a question to be answered later,” Richard answers, speaking for the first time. “We will know, later.” He looks at her again, and Anne allows herself to gaze back. He has aged some, but then, so has she. 

This is the first time that they have seen each other, that they have looked at each other in eight years. Anne so badly wants to go to his side, for him to hold her, that she has to curl her hands into fists and let her fingernails pierce her skin. The pain helps her remember herself. 

“I would like to ask your permission for my sister, the Dowager Duchess of Clarence, to join my household here,” she says. “Isabel has been with me through everything, and always as the head of my household.”

“Yes, permission granted.” 

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Anne thanks him, unable to believe her fortune. Though her life after this year will be precarious, at least she will have her sister and her son with her. 

“Would you bring your son in now?” the king asks. “I should like to speak to him. Alone.” 

“Yes, of course,” Anne tells them, heart pounding. She can only hope that her son will be protected, that Richard will feel something of himself in her son, and help shield him from whatever happens. 

.

Ned comes out of his meeting with the king and his uncles smiling. 

“What has the king told you?” Anne asks him. 

“I cannot tell you! I cannot tell anyone! The king said,” Ned says, and Anne sighs. 

“Of course he did.” 

The king and his household decide to stay for two days before returning to London. 

Anne is not able to spend any time alone with Richard, and she supposes that is for the best. She has seen him talking to Ned a few times, but otherwise he is directly at the king’s side. The only person who is with the king more is his uncle Anthony, and Anne supposes that she understands that. Anthony was with him for ten more years than Richard was, after all. 

She oversees the packing of Margarets things herself, since Margaret is to go with the king. He and his council will decide what to do with her and Anne cannot say that she will miss her. Ever since Anne formally surrendered she has gotten no peace from the woman. 

When it is time for the king to go Anne sees them off herself. 

“Thank you for your hospitality, Lady Anne,” the king tells her, doffing his cap before starting the ride. 

Richard is the only one to look back. 

.

Isabel arrives within a week of the king’s departure, and Anne hugs her as soon as they are alone. 

“Is Middleham really to be yours, Annie?” Isabel asks, letting her eyes roam over the grounds of their childhood home. They are holding hands, as they did when they were girls, and in front of them Ned runs, laughing in the sunshine. 

“For my period of mourning, yes. After that I don’t know what is going to happen to Middleham, or myself.” 

“They will want you to get married again,” Isabel warns her, as though she is not aware of this. 

“I know. I will see to that when the time comes, but for now I just want to enjoy the time that I have.” She squeezes Isabel’s hand. “Besides, I promised Ned that I would show him the best trees for climbing.” 

“I do not know why I have to come,” Isabel says. “I was not like you, I never climbed any trees.”

“Mother!” Ned says, hearing this. “You said that you didn’t climb trees. You lied!” 

“I climbed one tree, once. The Duke of Gloucester helped me down, along with his friend Francis Lovell, after your Aunt Izzy _left_ me all alone!” 

“I was not being scolded by mother just because you were stuck,” Isabel says, laughing at the memory. 

They stay up that night and speak of more memories at Middleham, and for the first time Anne feels a heaviness lift off of her. They allow Ned to stay with them and listen to the stories and eventually he falls asleep, his face in Isabel’s skirts. 

“You will not have to worry about his inheritance,” Isabel promises, stroking Ned’s hair. “When you are married I will go to live at one of the manors on my half of mother’s lands, and he will inherit my half. He will be taken care of there, if you should wish it.” 

“Do you mean it, Izzy?” Anne asks, hardly believing her luck. 

“Yes. I will get the contract written as soon as I can. Ned is almost like my son too, and I will not see him inherit nothing, and I have no heirs of my own.” 

“Thank you so much, I was so worried...”

“I know, Annie. For the remainder of the year I do not want you to worry anymore.” 

.

For months Anne and Isabel and little Ned are in their own little bubble at Middleham. Occasionally a message will come up from the south, informing them of the king’s coming and goings, but they are mostly left alone. Anne is sure that there are spies posted in her household, but as they do nothing, there is nothing for them to report and so Anne does not try to identify them. 

Ned spends his days with his tutors or out in the yard, learning swordplay with the men, and every night Anne sees him to give him a kiss and say his prayers with him before he goes to sleep. 

Anne and Isabel spend their days restoring Middleham to its former glory. They get a few more servants from the village and before long it is just like their mother ran it, a palace fit for the king. 

“What a generous king Edward is, to give you such a great allowance,” Isabel would say before they both would begin to laugh, at the hopelessness of their situation if nothing else. The fact that the castle will eventually be given to someone else rankles at Anne, but she tries not to focus on that. Instead she focuses on her life in the moment until the end of her mourning period. 

It is then that she receives a letter from Richard saying that he is coming to visit. 

.

Anne orders that Middleham be put into the absolute best shape that it can be and watches every single duty as it is done. Isabel watches this with amused eyes, but says nothing until Anne demands that she does. 

“I think nothing but that you are over worried about this visit. It is obvious why Richard is coming.” 

“It is?” Anne asks, and Isabel rolls her eyes. 

“Yes. Think on it.” 

Anne does, but cannot think of a reason that seems to stick. There are many reasons that she would _like_ for him to come, but she refuses to hope, refuses to be disappointed. 

.

The household waits outside for Richard’s arrival. He seems to have brought every man that he owns with him and that makes Anne’s heart sink. She knows that he has taken control of the north for his nephew, that he divides his time between London and Warwick castle, but she had not thought that he would be the one to take Middleham from her. 

She supposes that she is just grateful that it is him and not some other lord who would not appreciate Middleham for what it is. 

They all curtsey, and little Ned bows, before Richard lets them rise almost as quickly as they go down. 

“Dowager Duchess,” he says, bowing to Isabel, who smiles at him. 

“Lord Richard, we welcome you to Middleham.” 

He smiles at her and nods before moving to Ned. “Lord Edward,” he says solemnly. 

“Lord Richard,” Edward says back, just as solemnly. Anne has to bite her lip to keep from smiling. Watching them makes her heart swell until it feels too large for her chest. 

And then his gaze is on her, for the first time in almost a year. In that moment he loves her no longer, that she is the only one that feels the way that she did eight years ago. He could have met a woman in Burgundy, could have fell in love with her and made plans to marry her once he was back and settled in England. She has no idea. 

“Lady Anne,” he says. “We have much to discuss.” 

“Yes, Your Grace, I am sure we do.” 

.

Dinner is served as soon as Richard and his men are settled, and Anne decides that Ned should eat in his nursery instead of with them, at least for now. 

Isabel leads what is a very subdued conversation at dinner that night, acting as though she is the hostess and not Anne. Anne cannot begrudge Isabel this, because she finds that she can think of nothing to say to Richard. Nothing that will stick, anyway. 

Anne expects to get ready for bed with Isabel after dinner, but instead Richard asks, “Lady Anne, would you mind showing me the garden?”

The maids raise their eyebrows, seeing as how the sun has gone down and there is not much garden to see, but Anne ignores them. The moon is plenty full tonight. 

“Yes, of course. If you don’t mind Isabel.” 

“No, not at all,” Isabel says, turning her face to hide her amusement. 

Anne takes the arm that Richard extends once they reach the garden, grabbing it with two hands. She wonders if under his doublet there are scars that she could not see the last time they were together, if there are new ones now. 

“There is not much to see right now, as you can tell,” Anne says, and Richard smiles. 

“I have so much that I want to tell you, so many questions that I want to ask” Richard beings, “but I do not know where to start.” 

“You don’t have to tell me anything. You do not owe me anything. As for your questions, ask them. I have answers, believe me.” 

Richard pauses and takes a deep breath to ready himself, much the way he would before battle Anne imagines. “Do you still love me, the same way that you did all those years ago?” he asks, and for a moment she cannot speak. 

“Yes, of course. I’ve never stopped loving you. Do you love me?” She searches his face, but can find nothing but sincerity and clear _want_.

“Yes. There is no one for me but you; I couldn’t love anyone else at this point.” 

Anne doesn’t know how to react to this, but when Richard sweeps her into his arms she lets him. He doesn’t try to kiss her, only hold her, and she grips him back just as tightly. Her arms are around his neck and his are around her waist. She puts her face in his neck and thinks that she could stay like this forever. 

She can’t accurately gage the amount of time that they spend like this, but eventually Richard lets her go until the only thing she is holding once again is his arm. 

“And Ned,” he says, his voice lower than before, “is he-?”

“I don’t know,” Anne answers automatically. “I think so, but we cannot be-”

“I think we can be sure, you just cannot say so. He looks too much like me not to be. I noticed it the first time that I saw him, and so did Anthony Rivers. Only the king did not, and that is because he was far too preoccupied by what Ned represents than who he is.” 

“I still fear for my son,” she admits. “Please tell me that he will be safe, always.” 

Richard frowns. “I cannot see the future, but I know that nothing will happen to him while I am on this earth.” 

Anne sighs. “I suppose that is all I can ask for. But I do want to ask you one thing. Why did you come to Middleham? To secure it for the north after my year of mourning has finally been completed?” 

He smirks at her. “Why do you think?” 

She has a mind to walk away from him if he is going to be coy, but instead she just shakes her head. “Do not play games with me, we aren’t children anymore.” 

“Oh Anne,” Richard sighs. “I have come because I am going to ask you for the honor of becoming my wife. I know this means that you will no longer be considered the queen, but you are not that anyway. And besides, the king wants you married to someone close to him. Anthony Rivers offered himself but that is _not_ going to happen. So, will you marry me?” 

Anne finds that she cannot keep the smile from spreading over her face. “Yes, of course, yes,” she says, and rises on her tiptoes to kiss him. 

“Good,” he says when they finally pull apart. “I have already asked Rome for a dispensation.” 

.

Richard stays at Middleham for the remainder of Anne’s mourning period. He focuses on the parts of the manor that are traditionally a man’s domain. She and Isabel do not like to admit it, but that part of the castle has been left behind all the rest; they have had no one but their chamberlin and it is not the same as having a lord. 

When the men practice in the yard with Ned, Richard is out there as well. 

Once, Anne goes out to watch, and finds herself crying with happiness as she watches Richard and Ned spar. They move so similarly that she cannot believe that anyone would not think that Ned is Richard’s son. 

Ned notices her in the yard after he is hit hard enough to fall onto the ground. There is a part of Anne that wants to go pat him and make sure that he is not hurt, but she knows better than that now. It would only embarrassment. 

“Lady Mother!” Ned crows. “Did you see that?” 

He runs towards her and sees that she is crying, unable to keep the tears in. “Why are you crying? I am not truly hurt, it is just a scratch. Are you sad?”

“No, I am crying because I am so happy.” 

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Ned informs her, and Richard puts a hand on his shoulder. 

Anne had not noticed him listening to their conversation, and so they both jump when he says, “That is the duality of women. You will never understand them.” 

She wipes her eyes and shakes her head. “Men don’t need to understand women,” she tells Ned, and Richard laughs. 

“Come on, lad. There is still more that I need to teach you. Tell your mother good-bye now.” 

“I will see you later,” Ned promises, following Richard like a puppy, chatting excitedly back to the armory. 

Anne goes back into the castle her heart about to burst from happiness. 

.

Richard offers to escort Isabel and Anne down to the south to court now that Anne’s official period of mourning is over. “We will be married in Westminster Abbey,” Richard promises her. “Edward wants a big show, and so we will give him one.” 

“I can hardly contain my excitement,” Anne says, exchanging a look with Isabel, who giggles into her hand. 

In truth she is more excited for this wedding that she was her first one, when she had been a girl scared and alone. She just wishes that she did not have to go south to do it, though this certainly makes sense. The king wants a show, and so a show he shall get.

.

Elizabeth Woodville is currently residing as the queen, in the queen’s chambers, as King Edward has yet to marry. Lord Rivers is apparently working on a marriage treaty with the French, hoping to get the king a French princess, and Isabel and Anne giggled at the irony of this when Richard told them. 

With every motion it is clear that Elizabeth does not want Isabel and Anne at court, but seeing as how Isabel is a dowager duchess, and Anne is a future royal duchess and a past Queen of England, equal in rank to Elizabeth herself, there is nothing that she can do to them. 

“Elizabeth Woodville is not happy that we are here,” Isabel whispers at the feast the night of their return. “Look at how she watches us.” 

“We are here on the king’s orders, and we have come with one of the king’s closest companions,” Anne reminds her as Elizabeth looks away from them. “She cannot touch us.” 

“Do not tell me you two are plotting,” Richard says, coming to sit in the open spot beside them. Most of court is dancing now, and Anne watches them from where they sit. This is a young and happy court, much like Edward’s father’s from what she can remember. There is nothing but gaiety here, gaiety and the promise of happiness and wealth. 

“We were wondering what to do about your admirer over there,” Anne says, nodding towards the Princess Elizabeth, who does not seem to realize that they are talking about her. The princess’s eyes have been on Richard all night long, and she is young and beautiful and unmarried. Tempting enough for any man. 

Richard just shakes his head and smiles slightly. “Elizabeth is my niece and a bit lovesick, that is all. You have no need to worry,” Richard reassures her. 

“I am glad that I do not need to doubt your affections,” Anne tells him, suddenly overcome with love for this man. He can make her happy even in London, which is not something that all men can claim. 

“He loves you,” Isabel tells her when Richard walks away to talk to the king. “You are lucky.” She sounds a bit wistful, but Anne grabs her hand under the table. 

“I know,” Anne says. “I know.” 

.

The crowd is cheering on the morning of her wedding, and Anne smiles to hear them. London will take any excuse to celebrate, and they still love Anne enough to be happy on her wedding day, and that is all she needs. 

Her gown is cloth-of-gold and her headdress has clusters of pearls sewn around the bottom and top. She is allowed a mirror for this occasion, Richard sparing not a single expense, and she looks at herself. 

Anne can hardly believe that this is happening, that finally, after years of dreaming about it, she is marrying Richard. 

“You look beautiful,” Isabel tells her before she begins to ride in the streets to Westminster Abbey. 

“Thank you,” she says, before climbing onto her horse. 

She thinks of the first time she ever rode in London on her own, of the first time she rode to London with her husband by her side, and compares them to now. Anne can hardly keep the smile off her face as she waves at the crowd. 

_Those days were nothing like this_ , she thinks to herself. No longer is she a girl, but a woman, about to become a wife a second time. 

Richard is waiting for her at the door of the church. She beams at him as well and his answering smile is all that she has ever wanted to see in the world. This is her new beginning, and she will finally have him at her side. 

Anne feels like she can do anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it's done! I can hardly believe it, haha. I seem to have a thing for ending stories for Richard and Anne when they get married, before things go badly for them. Oh well, they deserve happiness. 
> 
> I also want to thank everyone so much for the kudos and kind comments. This was a very hard fic for me to write and every bit of support means more to me than I can say. So, thank you.


End file.
